


bolder choices

by tangentiallly



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Arguing, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, friendship referring to k&b and fwb referring to b/e, rated M for a nsfw b/e interlude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangentiallly/pseuds/tangentiallly
Summary: Bertrand brings up about wanting to leave VFD, argument ensues.
Relationships: Ernest Denouement/Bertrand Baudelaire, Kit Snicket & Bertrand Baudelaire
Kudos: 4





	bolder choices

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i don't own ASOUE

They have a fight when Bertrand brings up about wanting to leave. Harsh, angry words are exchanged, the kind of words that afterwards make them feel “perhaps I should not have said that” and then “but was I _wrong_?” The kind of words that cut, way too precise, because that’s the downside of knowing each other so well for so long.

When they aim, it’s right on spot.

Metaphorically, anyway.

Kit has quite a few things to say about how Bertrand wants to leave and start his own family, asking if the family he currently has - their group of friends all bound together by their fate in some way, but especially her - is it not enough for him? Hasn’t he always said family’s more than just blood, hasn’t she always been the one by his side, rather than the estranged blood family he’s never met after he was adopted?

“And now we’re not enough?” she asks, accusingly, dreading to think what it’d be like if he leaves, the “now that I’m not enough?” unspoken, but implied. “Thought family’s about more than blood, and now you’re saying you want —” she’s being unfair, a voice inside her tells her, this isn’t really comparable, wanting his own family with children, it’s a different thing, the voice says. Plus, it’s probably less to do with that and more to do with vfd itself. Kit firmly ignores that voice inside her head.

“That’s rich coming from you, snicket, you have your _brothers_ ,” he interrupts, bitingly. “And anyway, this is also about how vfd —”

She doesn’t want to hear it, plus she’s angry that he has the gall to bring up lemony, especially after what happened. She cuts across him, “my brothers? really? L is —”

“Alive,” he snaps.

Something clatters. She doesn’t check what fell out of her hand. “What - how - why do _you_ know?”

He hesitates, previous anger replaced by guilt for a moment, and then deliberate unreadable expression. “Jacques swore me to secrecy. I wasn’t supposed to find out either, but,” he pauses.

“You say they’re _my_ brothers, but it looks like you don’t have any issues keeping secrets with them _from_ me.”

He frowns. “This doesn’t mean —”

“You’re just happily conspiring with my brothers behind my back!” she shouts.

“Okay, you _know_ it’s not like that,” he snaps. “Be sensible, Snicket —”

“Did you pick up that phrase from your chaperone??”

“Shut up, I don’t see how that has to do with anything.”

“Right, let’s get back to how you lied to me about L.”

“Technically —”

“Do not say lying by omission is not a lie, it’s in the name —”

“A terribly misleading name if there’s ever one —”

“Shut _up_!”

He does.

“You _know_ you should’ve told me. don’t tell me to take it up with jacques. I mean I will, but that’s a separate matter. I thought I could trust you.”

A tense silence.

“Fine, this one’s on me, but as for —”

“Wait,” she says, incredulous. Angry. “You think you can just say that and then we’ll move on to the next topic and —” she exhales. “ _Really_?”

Yes, they’re in the middle of a fight, and maybe perhaps (still debatable, not something that’s certain) she’s a bit unfair earlier but that’s just arguments. Breach of trust and lies are a different level.

A longer silence, and he gives in first. “Sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says.

As much as she wanted his admittance of fault a moment ago, as much as she wanted his apology a moment ago, she doesn’t actually want to acknowledge it now, because she doesn’t actually want to think about how to feel about this next, especially with so many unresolved arguments still in the air. She tells herself she doesn’t owe him an acknowledgment right this moment, it’s not as if he didn’t take his time not saying anything.

Unable to think of anything else to say that’s suitable for the moment, she turns on her heels and walks away.

He doesn’t call after her, doesn’t shout her name for her to please come back, doesn’t come running. It’s terribly stupid, but she misses a certain name she doesn’t want to think about for a second, someone she’s not supposed to think about. At least he had often came running, albeit that was because he was one for dramatic gestures, especially in broad daylight, because he had a thing for performing. (Well, has a thing for performing. Kit just prefers to think of him mostly in past tense.) She loathed the dramatic gesture, mostly, but it’d been nice to have someone trying to please her in dramatic ways, while she gets annoyed by the drama of it all. (Beatrice does the same thing too, all big dramatic gestures, except in Beatrice’s case those gestures weren’t romantic. but the general principle remains the same, that Kit is annoyed by the dramatic, grand declarations, the overly extra gestures where everyone could see that Beatrice and O — that Beatrice and him — love to make. But she’s also, occasionally, only very occasionally, enjoyed this.)

(Yes, it’s a flaw of her, she’s well aware. She has a type, she’s well aware, goddamn overly dramatic theater kids who would not hesitate to do extremely stupid thing in public. That chocolate fountain Beatrice and O made was a disaster, a terrible thing to clean up, more trouble than it worth and Kit has had words with them both afterwards, but nevertheless she has been slightly touched. Just slightly.)

(It doesn’t matter. And it’s not the point. She shouldn’t even be thinking about this now.)

She drives to Hotel Denouement. Ernest is standing at the entrance. She tells him, impulsively, “I have half the mind to kiss you right here.” Not that she wants to, but he looks enough like Dewey (well, practically exactly like Dewey, actually) that it wouldn’t be hard to pretend.

His eyebrows shoot up. “who are you and what have you done with Kit Snicket?”

“I don’t actually want to,” she says, impatient.

“Ah, that’s the Kit Snicket I know. Did someone send you a mission to kill me by slipping a poison capsule into my mouth?”

“I will just stab you,” Kit tells him sincerely, “far easier for both of us.”

“Oh absolutely,” he agrees. “So what brought this up, really?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” she says.

“Did you fight with B?” he asks, suspicious.

“I said it doesn’t concern you.”

“Hmm, that sounds awfully like a yes.” he says. “Well, resolve it somehow, or you know Dewey’s going to stress out about it. And then Frank would be displeased.”

“Frank’s always displeased.”

“Nah, he isn’t. That’s just his face,” he shrugs. “Can’t blame him, I’m the handsome one, after all.”

She rolls her eyes and walks into the hotel.

“I am serious, you know, you better make up soon,” he calls after her. “It inconveniences all of us when you fight.”

Kit flips him off without looking back at him.

* * *

_(interlude)_

“B, darling,” Ernest says, taking Bertrand’s hand and kissing his fingertips, and then moving up to kiss his arm, and then skillfully manipulating both of their positions to kiss his collarbone. (He’s always been very flexible.) “You know I adore you,” removing his shirt and continue to kiss him, starting from the collarbone and then going down, “and that I detest K,” more kisses, “but I do sort of think she has a point this time.”

“Right,” Bertrand says. “I don’t disagree.”

“Mmm, because I feel like if it’s me,” he drawled, before pressing more kisses, one on his chest, and then another lower, and lower, “I’d probably be mad too.”

“That’s fair,” Bertrand says, his voice a little uneven. Probably not so much to do with emotions, Ernest knows, but rather what Ernest’s mouth was doing right now.

“I think you should go make up with her,” Ernest says, raising his head and holding Bertrand’s gaze. “Obviously, I do not care for Kit Snicket’s feelings, I just think that Dewey is rather unhappy about you two fighting, which is causing Frank’s displeasure, which is not a good sign for my workload. So I’m asking you to do this from a completely selfish standpoint, I hope you understand.”

He reaches out, and slowly starts to unzip Bertrand’s jeans. “Very selfish request of mine,” he emphasizes again.

“I -” Bertrand swallows. “I know. I should. It’s just ... that’s not all we fought about, it was ....” he trails off, inhaling sharply as Ernest expertly gets those jeans off, and then the underwear, and throws them onto a nearby chair.

“I’m sure those could also be resolved if you talk about this first,” Ernest suggests, smoothly, bending down to press another kiss on his belly. “Don’t you think?”

Bertrand’s expression says “ _you’re making it very hard for me to think anything right now_ ,” and what he actually says is, “mhmm.”

“Excellent,” Ernest beams. “Well, I need to be off. Promised Frank I’d run an errand for him.”

Bertrand stares at him, and Ernest smiles charmingly at him. Then Bertrand’s expression turns blank, carefully neutral - _impressively_ neutral for a person who’s only wearing socks - and asks, evenly. “Can I ask you something real quick?”

_No_ , Ernest thinks. “Always,” Ernest smiles.

“Are you angry with me?” Bertrand asks carefully.

“Of course not,” Ernest says, with a deceptively easy laugh. “I’m sorry about the errand, you know what Frank’s like.” Technically not a lie, Frank did ask him to do something. He also said he wished it to be done as soon as possible, granted Frank always wants things done as soon as possible so that doesn’t actually mean much, in Ernest’s opinion. “See you.”

As soon as he’s out of the door, Ernest thinks to himself, _liar._

So yeah, maybe he’s a little angry, but he knows he’s not really in a position to be angry, he knows he’s probably projecting, he knows it’s more of his own issues he need to deal with than anyone else’s. He knows that. Which is why he can’t admit that he’s angry, even if he is.

So perhaps he lets his imagination run free and imagine himself in Kit Snicket’s position (not promising start, he knows, he knows, they never get along). Lets himself imagine what if this has happened with Dewey, what if this secret is kept away from him. If Bertrand could keep these things from Kit, there’s no reason to think he would ever tell Ernest it’s about Dewey. Because the truth is that Ernest knows Bertrand and Kit has a friendship based on them telling each other probably everything, where Ernest has a relationship with Bertrand based on them kissing and not telling each other anything important. (He’s fine with it, it works, it’s _convenient._ Mostly.)

He’s aware his anger is irrational, that not only that’s just a hypothetical scenario that hasn’t happened yet and might never happen, but also even if it happens, Bertrand probably owes him less truth than he ever owes Kit. Their relationship is one with secrets and dodging truths and charming smiles and that’s it.

He hates getting worked up about something that he thinks he shouldn’t be mad about, hates that nothing’s even happened and he’s conjuring up a whole imaginary scenario for himself to be angry about. (Yes, he’s angry, he can admit to himself. He will not admit it to others.) But it’s hard not to be angry sometimes, not to worry sometimes, not to think about how maybe Frank and Dewey would one day want to keep him out. (Maybe it’s his brothers that’s the real issue here, maybe he should talk to them about trust, instead of daydreaming an imaginary scenario involving Bertrand. Because this isn’t actually really about Bertrand, but about his brothers potentially deciding to do this to him. He knows all this. He thinks he’s pretty self-aware.)

Plus, at least he’s dealing with this in a very mature way, not worrying his brothers about his insecurities and expressing how he feels through teasing his friend-with-benefit during a hook-up. It’s very adult of him, if he does say so himself.

He goes downstairs and hails a taxi, preparing to go to the financial district.

* * *

_(a few days later)_

Someone knocks on her door at eleven on a Thursday night, and Kit knows it’s Bertrand before getting the door because it’s a special knock that only the two of them know.

So she takes her time getting the door.

When she finally opens it, he’s leaning against the wall, a bottle of scotch in hand. “We should talk, K,” he turns to face her.

She studies him, and he meets her gaze evenly, and then she lets him in and goes to the kitchen and takes out two glasses from the cabinet.

Despite agreeing that they should probably talk, neither of them talked, at first. Only on the third refill does Kit breaks the silence. “This is good,” Kit says. “Where did you get it?”

“The hotel’s wine room,” Bertrand says.

Kit raises an eyebrow. “I thought Frank doesn’t let any of us in there.”

“I persuaded Dewey to help me,” Bertrand says. “I think he agreed because he’s quite eager for us to make up, as everyone has been constantly reminding me this past week.”

Kit snorts. “You’re not the only one getting those reminders.”

He gives her a lopsided smile and raises his glass half-mockingly at her in salute. She rolls her eyes.

“So you decided to come see me after the reminders get one too much,” she says lightly.

“Yeah,” he agrees, equally light. “Well, that and I miss getting to places at an adequate speed.”

She can’t help but laugh out loud at that. He doesn’t do stupid dramatic gestures, or fancy disastrous chocolate fountains, but he always knows exactly what to say. “Flattery,” she drawls. “Doesn’t buy everything.”

“I know,” he says, suddenly serious. “I’m sorry.”

She nods, acknowledging the apology this time. And then she asks something she’s been thinking about since that day, piecing together tiny details she missed earlier. “I have a feeling you planned to tell me eventually, because you’re actually much better at keeping secrets. You don’t let them slip out in the middle of the fight even when you’re angry, if you really planned to never say anything. I don’t think you wanted to say it that soon, but you must’ve thought, since you’re going to say it anyway, might as well do it at that moment.” She looks him in the eyes. “Am I wrong?”

He sighs. “Get out of my head, Snicket,” he mutters, which she thinks is basically a confirmation. He takes a sip of his scotch, and then admits. “I was planning to persuade you to not tell J you know after I tell you,” he frowns. “Although I may have changed my mind about that. You should talk to him, actually.”

“Even if it means he’ll find out you told me?” Kit asks, skeptically. She doubts he wants a fight with Jacques. Jacques isn’t her. They don’t fight, not really.

He fixes her with a serious gaze. “I underestimated the meaning of keeping that a secret, and now I know, I really think you and Jacques need to talk about it. Whatever fallout he and I might have are not as important.”

He’s right, she thinks. She probably should talk with Jacques. “I’ll think about it,” Kit says. “But no promises.” She changes the subject. “About leaving VFD ... have you really thought it through?”

He blinks at the change of the subject, and then says, “Not at all.” He makes a face. “It’s just ... a thought. I know it’s probably unlikely, but I have been getting this thought recently and .... I need to talk about it, I guess. Just wanted to know what you think. It’s hardly decided.”

She suspects as much. “And everyone thinks you’re the one who thinks thoroughly and plans carefully before saying something,” she remarks.

“That’s usually what I do,” he agrees. “But you’re not everyone else.”

And just like that, things are alright again.

They watch a movie afterwards, a murder mystery from Kit’s collection that they’ve both watched before but doesn’t mind watching again.

Somewhere in between, Kit falls asleep.

When she wakes up again, she’s still on the sofa, covered with her blanket that was on her bed last she remembered. The glasses of last night are gone, presumably back in the kitchen, and there’s a glass of water and a bottle of pain reliever on the table beside the sofa. 

And a note.

It reads, _ice coffee in your fridge. you have a brunch reservation with J at 11 at your usual place, but phone me if you want to cancel and i’ll arrange for jerome to be there. they won’t suspect a thing. B._

Kit considers his offer, and picks up her phone, before hesitating and putting it down again.

She’ll drink that coffee first and then decide.

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi on tumblr](https://beatricebidelaire.tumblr.com)


End file.
